


L'entreprise de trois

by sailorblaze



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Amélie may have PTSD, F/F, Implied/Referenced Torture, Lena has two hands y'all: the fanfic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Torture, Self-Harm, So much torture, Torture, Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix Redemption, Will have Intense Action later on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-11-28 18:16:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11423466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailorblaze/pseuds/sailorblaze
Summary: Emily expected many things when she entered the flat after work. What she didn't expect was Widowmaker on the couch, wrapped up in blankets like a breakfast burrito.





	1. Help, There’s A Spider On My Couch!

**Author's Note:**

> Overwatch is the property of Blizzard Entertainment. Although everybody here knows this already, the author is wary of Jeff Kaplan and Michael Chu fusing into Anne Rice overnight and raining hellfire on her. Therefore, the author will include this disclaimer before every chapter of this fic.
> 
> The comments thread is not the place to bash Widowtracer or Lenily. Please kindly take that shit elsewhere, preferably where the author can't see it.

As far as Emily Campbell had been concerned, it had been a pretty normal day for her. Work that day went well enough, with only younger children wreaking havoc around the bookshop to worry over. But hey, they were  _ children. _ Running amok was their job. Upon closing time, she had stopped to pick up dinner on the way home. She was capable of cooking dinner herself, except it had been a long day and she did not trust her girlfriend within a five mile radius of the kitchen. Lena Oxton was many things - quick-witted, cheerful, and kissable. A master chef, however, she was not.

Now, Emily found herself standing in the elevator and watching it ascend to the sixteenth floor. The box of food from Nando’s felt warm, but not uncomfortable, in her pale white hands. She shifted her stance, anxious to rush inside, rip off her heels, and change into something far more comfortable. With a ping, the elevator reached its destination, and Emily exited.

The door to her flat was already opened, which was unusual for a Tuesday. In hindsight, she should’ve considered this the first sign that something was off about tonight. Emily frowned and shifted the take out box under her arm; with her other hand, she reached for the tube of pepper spray disguised as lipstick within her purse. She may have been a civilian, but she was far from stupid; dating an agent of Overwatch, after all, came with its own set of dangers and challenges. She steadied herself and poked her head into her flat.

Emily expected many things when she entered: ransacked furniture everywhere, a damaged chronal accelerator strewn across the floor, or even the strange cowboy man Lena worked with passed out on the ground. What she didn't expect was the infamous assassin known as Widowmaker lying on the couch, wrapped up in blankets like a breakfast burrito. Her hair hung loose, and she stared across the room with a thousand mile gaze.

Emily dropped her stuff and placed the carton of take-out on the kitchen counter. “Lena?” she called, pulling off her coat and stepping out of her heels, “Sweetheart, what’s going on?”

Almost immediately, a pair of soft brown puppy dog eyes belonging to her girlfriend peeped out of the bathroom. Her short mop of brown hair was drenched and slicked back, and she only had a towel on. “Em? That you, luv?”

“‘Course it’s me.” Emily’s Scottish brogue sounded a tad thicker than usual, mostly due to worry. “Mind explaining your friend on the couch?”

“Uh…” Lena wrapped the towel around her torso so that only her head and legs stuck out. “Mind letting me get dressed first?”

Emily pursed her lips and pretended to consider the request. “Alright then,” she said, chuckling , “Just as long as dinner doesn’t get cold.”

“Wicked!” Lena immediately lifted her chronal accelerator from where it sat outside the bathroom and ran off. Watching her, Emily smirked and meandered to the bedroom, where she leaned within the doorframe.

“Mind if I watch?” she asked.

Lena looked at her from over her shoulder. She was only wearing a pair of white underwear, allowing Emily to admire her lithe body, toned thighs, and freckled shoulders. “Not at all, Em,” she chirped, sliding on an oversized jumper.

Emily’s cheeks turned pink, and she wandered over to the bed. “So, d’you wanna tell me why a notorious assassin’s gone and taken over our couch?”

Lena’s brow knitted itself, and she moved to join Emily on the bed. “It’s a long story,” she murmured, casting an uncomfortable glance towards the corner of the room.

“Can’t be  _ that  _ long, little hedgehog.” Emily pulled her into her lap and began working her fingers through her hair, mussing it artfully. “You’ve told me stranger ones before.”

“I know, luv.” She sank into her arms and seemed to appear even smaller than she was. “It’s just… oh hell, Emily, I don’t know where to begin. It’s  complicated, and I don’t know how much she’d want me to say…”

“Shhhhh.” Emily rubbed the back of Lena’s neck soothingly. “I don’t need a long backstory tonight. Just tell me how you two got here.”

“I can do that!” Lena squirmed into a much more comfortable position. “Well, you see, she- I mean,  _ I _ ran into her tonight. Either way, I thought we were gonna fight one another, but… she was different. It was like somebody sucked all the air out of her or something, I don’t know.”

Emily frowned. “Are you sure it wasn’t a trap?”

“I don’t think so,” Lena replied, biting her lip, “She was  _ crying, _ Em.”

Emily tossed her hair out of her face. “Huh. I take it that’s not normal?”

“No, not at all. It was pretty weird. She collapsed to her knees and started muttering ‘Gérard’ over and over again…”

“Gérard?” Emily crossed her legs. “You mean Gérard Lacroix?” She'd heard about the famous Overwatch operative and his demise on their second date. The idea of Widowmaker killing Gérard in his sleep sounded preposterous, but not unlikely.

Lena opened her mouth to respond but hesitated; after an uncomfortable pause, she shook her head. As she did so, her bangs flopped in front of her eyes. “Something like that.”

“Okay, sweetie.” Emily pushed Lena’s bangs out of her face and kissed her nose. “We’ll figure it out, I promise.”

“We need to keep her here for a while.” Lena turned and wrapped her limbs around Emily. “Doc thinks Talon did something to her. If they did, then I don’t want to find out what they’ll do if they get her back.”

“Lena, are you sure?” Emily looked taken aback. “I’m on your side, but I hope you know how risky this sounds.”

Lena rested her wet head on Emily’s shoulder and snuggled closer. “I know, luv. I don’t even think I can tell the others at Overwatch about this yet…”

“Not even Winston?” Emily wrapped her arms around Lena’s tiny waist.

“No.” She buried her face into Emily’s pale shoulder. “I’d like to think they’d want to  give her another chance, but I don’t think that’s possible yet...”

Emily cuddled her like a little teddy bear. “From what you’ve told me, I don’t think Widowmaker would be that receptive either…”

“You’re right.” Lena sat up. “Complicated, isn’t it?”

Emily closed her eyes and nodded, embracing Lena for a moment. “We need to talk to her. Set some ground rules and all.”

“Wait, now?” Lena snapped to attention. “Em, I’m pretty sure she’s not in a chatty mood-”

“I know, but…” She let out a sigh and kneaded her forehead, stressed. Lena sat up and pecked the tip of Emily’s freckled nose, her fingers reaching up to stroke the base of her neck. Emily pulled her closer and planted a kiss on her tiny mouth, her fingers running through her hair.

“I trust you, Em,” Lena chirped, pulling away for air, “It's just that I worry about you a lot.”

“Awwww, hedgehog…” Emily tossed her hair behind her shoulders. “That’s very sweet of you, but I can handle myself. There’s a lot of tricks I’ve got up my sleeves.”

Lena tilted her head . “Like what?” she asked, amused.

“I’ll show you later.” Emily gave her girlfriend’s neck a tender kiss, leaving a faint pink mark on it.  “Can’t leave our guest lying out on the couch all night, after all.”

“Right then!” Lena slid off the bed, leaped onto her feet, and slung her chronal accelerator over her shoulder. “C’mon, let’s go talk with her. How hard could it be?”

* * *

The situation was incredibly uncomfortable, to say the least.

Widowmaker had not moved from her position on the couch at all in the last few minutes. She hadn’t even shifted her gaze to a different spot in the room. Hell, Emily wasn’t even sure that she had  _ blinked _ in all that time either. She gave Lena a concerned look, but her only response was an apologetic shrug.

Emily cleared her throat, immediately capturing the Widowmaker’s attention. “Um. Hello. Do you need me to get you any-?”

“No.” she replied, abruptly.

“Alright then, fair enough.” She sat down across from her stiffly. “Widowmaker, we’d like to talk to you about-”

“I don’t answer to that name anymore.” She glared at the two of them from the couch. Lena plopped herself on the floor and opened her mouth to speak. “Since  _ now, _ ” she added, answering a question that nobody had asked.

Emily turned to Lena, her eyes wide. “Help.”

“Try Amélie.” Emily stared blankly at Lena for a moment. “Y'know, her name.”

Emily nodded and sat up straight. “Sorry then. Amélie, we just want to talk to you.”

Amélie snorted and sat herself up, pushing her hair back. “Now  _ this  _ should be entertaining,” she said, an amused smile on her face, “What could you possibly have to say to me?”

“Lena told me about what happened between you t-”

“I’m sure she did.” Her smirk vanished, and she steepled her index fingers. “It was only a small altercation.  _ Un prêté pour un rendu.  _ Her concern for me, while endearing, is foolish.”

“ _ Foolish- _ ?” Lena snorted. “Amélie, you were bawling your eyes out!”

Amélie shook her hair back with a flick of her head and stared down at Lena. “I can neither confirm nor deny,” she said coldly.

Emily shifted her position and cleared her throat. “Anyway,” she said, “I  want to let you know that you’re free to stay here as long as you need as long as you don’t shoot us.”

“An intriguing proposal.” Amélie raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips. “Perhaps I will consider it.”

“Promise you’ll stay here for the week at the very least, okay?” Lena swung her legs back and forth childishly. “I won’t say anything to the others at Overwatch if it’s not an emergency, but you can’t just sod off with no warning.”

Amélie narrowed her eyes at the two of them suspiciously. “And what  _ exactly _ would an emergency count as in this case?”

“Getting stabbed? Stabbing someone? Whatever seems like it’d be basic common sense, I suppose.” Emily shrugged. “To be honest, I’m not familiar with standard protocol like this. Lena, sweetie, did I cover the basics?”

Lena tilted her head and pursed her lips endearingly. “Yeah, that’s pretty much it. No murder, no running off without saying anything, that sort of stuff. Oh, and no stealing the milk. Captain Amari'd have my head if I forgot that.”

Amélie let out a bitter laugh. “ _ Quel dommage, _ ” she said, pouting, “Tonight, I was planning to run away with no warning to go on a murder spree and rob a grocery store. I suppose it will have to wait, then.”

In an attempt to stop herself from laughing, Lena knitted her eyebrows together and sucked in air. Unfortunately, she only succeeded in looking like an aggravated chipmunk. “Oi! We’re being serious here-!”

Before she could finish her sentence, Amélie reached over and flicked her nose. “For someone as foolish as you, I would think that identifying a joke would come as second nature.” The frigid tones in her voice caused a chill to run down Emily’s spine. Whatever Talon might’ve done to her, chances were that it wasn’t going to be shaken off without a fight.

“I am capable of behaving myself, chérie,” she continued, sitting back on the couch and climbing back under the blanket, “No need to worry.”

“Thank you…?” Emily blinked, a frown spreading across her face.

“De rien.” The only part of Amélie visible under the blanket was a pair of golden brown eyes. “Now leave. I’m going to bed.” Her eyes shut, and she disappeared under the blanket entirely.

“...Huh.” Lena stood up, and her jumper slid off of her shoulder. Emily’s face pinkened as she realized that her girlfriend’s clothes were dangerously close to an accidental nip slip. “I think I’m gonna call it a night. Wanna join me, Em?”

Emily snorted. “And not eat dinner first?” she asked, amused, “Who are you, and what have you done with my girlfriend?”

“Hey, I’ll have you know that today at work was  _ especially _ long!” Lena threw her hands up in surrender. “Can’t fault me for forgetting, you know.”

Emily pretended to consider this. “Oh, was it…?” She smirked. “Maybe you’ll have to tell me over some Peri-Peri Wings from Nando’s.”

A smile broke out across Lena’s face. “I’d like that,” she decided, zooming over to Emily and wrapping her arms around her waist.

Emily found herself giggling and ran her fingers through Lena’s hair. “Alright, little hedgehog. Alright.” She picked up the boxes of take-out and led her girlfriend to the dining table, both of them cooing at one another on the way.

Neither of them noticed the pair of golden eyes watching them from under the blanket on the couch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seeing that Blizzard announced something... er, game-changing today, I can already anticipate possible questions from you guys. Let me clear things up for you.
> 
> Doomfist? Not gonna make a physical appearance in this fic. Sorry, y'all.


	2. How Do You Stop Your Roommate From Bleeding Out In The Bathroom? Asking For A Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emily comes home to find Amélie getting into mischief. Having a former assassin as a roommate obviously wasn't going to be easy, but this was ridiculous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm putting up a trigger warning for this chapter. Know that it contains scenes of self-harm, as well as an implication of PTSD. Read with discretion and stay safe, guys!

 

Two days had passed, and the rule about hiding Amélie from Overwatch had already flown out the window with all the grace of Torbjörn Lindholm after five whole bottles of hard liquor.

As usual, it had all started when Emily returned from another day at work. After being accosted by middle-aged mothers who didn’t believe she was the manager and delinquents attempting to short-circuit the cashier, she at least hoped that she’d come home to her loving girlfriend and their curious new flatmate. Upon arriving at home, however, Emily found that things were quiet. Too quiet, even.

Normally, one would welcome the quiet as a reprieve from the hustle of everyday life. With Lena Oxton as her girlfriend, Emily knew better. Quiet could mean any number of things: Lena was kidnapped or on a mission, a bomb could be hiding somewhere within the apartment waiting to catch Emily off guard, or worse.

An erotic moan from the bathroom broke the crushing silence. It was too low to have come from Lena’s chipper squeak of a voice, meaning it had to belong to Amélie. Emily raised an eyebrow and inched towards the bathroom. “Amélie, I’m home,” she said.

No response. “Hey Amélie, anything special you’d like for dinner?” Emily asked in an attempt to keep cool.

Nothing. “Amélie?” She took another step towards the bathroom door, only to step in something wet and cold. Emily looked down, expecting to see water.

Long story short? It was  _ definitely  _ not water.

“ _ Amélie! _ ” Emily grabbed at the doorknob and twisted it open, all but ripping it off of its hinges. The bottom of her white pants brushed the ground and resurfaced with a red stain the size of an eraser.  Nevertheless, she ventured inside.

“Hush.” Amélie sat cross-legged on the ground, frowning in concentration. She held a pair of tweezers in her hand, which she had stuck inside the gaping wound on her tattooed forearm. They quivered violently, as if she were searching for something.

Emily crouched down. “What the  _ bleeding  _ hell do you think you’re-?”

“ _ Hush _ ,” she repeated through gritted teeth. A second of tense silence passed; then, Amélie looked up and rested her eyes upon one of Emily’s heels. “Your shoe.”

Emily looked up. “My-?”

“I need it.” Amélie yanked out a small bead from the wound. A tiny red light pulsated from the center of it. “Give me your shoe.”

Emily slipped off a single heel and slid it to Amélie. She would’ve questioned the logistics of it all if the latter weren’t busy bleeding out. “Here.”

“Merci.” Amélie set the bead on the ground and picked up Emily’s heel. Without warning, she slammed it down on top of the bead. Emily winced at the heel flew off the shoe and the bead shattered. A sparking wire poked out from the rubble, and the red light faded.

Amélie let out a sigh. “Much better.”

She promptly passed out on the tile floor.

* * *

“No, no, no, no, no-! Gabe, we’ve lost her! Gabe!  _ Gabe! _ ”

A stream of black mist trickled into the room from under the door. It settled next to Sombra before taking a humanoid shape. “You’re kidding me,” the Reaper hissed.

Sombra rolled her eyes and blew a strand of hair out of her face. She sat back and glowered at the blacked-out monitors before her. “I  _ told  _ you she’d lose the tracking device before doing anything else,” she muttered, “Now we’ve got basically no leads on her position, and she’s probably left the UK by now.”

A frustrated growl escaped from underneath Reaper’s mask. “At least  _ tell  _ me you got her last known location on you,” he said.

“As far as I know, Gabe, it was the roof of some nameless London apartment.” Sombra kneaded her temples. “There’s no way she’s still there. Like I said, probably left the country.” She turned to the teddy bear propped up against one of the monitors. “Your thoughts, Señor Sleepy Time?”

Señor Sleepy Time said nothing, as he was only a mere stuffed toy. In the meantime, Reaper cast one last glare towards the screens and turned back towards the door. “Forget about it.”

“Wait,  _ what? _ ” Sombra whipped around. “We’re giving up just like that?”

“Overwatch’s return, our failure at Volskaya, the mission to break Akande out…” He huffed. “Widowmaker’s the least of our problems right now. And maybe she  _ doesn’t  _ want to be found.”

Sombra smirked and crossed her arms as she turned back to her monitors. “Don’t be ridiculous, Gabe.  _ Everybody _ wants to be found.”

A gust of wind rushed past her ear, and he was gone.

* * *

“Amélie…? Luv, stay with us!”

As Amélie Lacroix came to, she realized three things. One, she was still in the bathroom. Two, Lena was at the doorway, flittering to and fro. Three, somebody was holding her arm in place as they stitched the wound shut.

“And here I thought we were keeping this a secret.” Amélie’s vision had not yet steadied, but she could make out the vague silhouette of Dr. Angela Ziegler by her side.

“We were, until  _ somebody _ had the bright idea of ripping her arm open.” Emily leaned against the wall opposite the bathroom door. She held out her arm and grabbed Lena as she passed by, pulling her over.

Angela shook her head, an exhausted look on her face. “Really, Amélie, you should’ve waited to have a medical professional remove the tracking device.”

Amélie frowned. “I find this method to be less deadly than the alternative. Surely, these girls would rather not have special operatives interrupt afternoon tea to murder them in cold blood.” She paused. “Or whatever meaningless activity the British take part in these days.”

“I’m  _ Glaswegian _ .” Emily scowled as she picked up Lena and held her like a little doll.

Amélie blinked. “Ça va,” she said, nonplussed, “But I really don’t give a damn.”

Dr. Ziegler cleared her throat. “I should give you an anesthetic,” she said, “I can’t imagine that this isn’t hurting you in any way.”

“You’ll find that I don’t-  _ Ah! _ ” Amélie yelped and glanced down at her arm. The area around the wound had turned a pale brown color, harshly contrasting against the blue of the rest of her body. “ _ Merde… _ ”

Lena paused from squirming against Emily’s grasp to gawk. “Amélie, your-”

“Yes, my skin. I do have  _ eyes _ , cherie.” She turned to Angela, who barely looked phased by this new development. “Qu'est-ce que tu penses?”

“It looks like your blood is beginning to circulate throughout your body again.” Angela put down the syringe she had recently stabbed Amélie with and finished stitching up your wound. “That’s definitely why your skin’s less blue than before.”

“I see.” She shifted her jaw, an unreadable expression on her face. “And it will be gone…  _ when _ , exactly?”

Angela’s face fell. “I… would need more information to give you a clear answer.” She picked up a roll of gauze and began wrapping it around Amélie’s arm. “The closest estimate I could make right now is that it would take  _ at least _ a few months. That is, of course, unless you’d like me to arrange for more tests-?”

At the mention of testing, Amélie yanked her arm away and shrank back. “ _ No _ !” she shrieked. Emily flinched back and dropped Lena to the ground , while Angela covered her mouth in surprise. Several tense seconds of silence hung in the air as everybody tried to comprehend what had just happened.

Then, Amélie stiffened. “No more tests,” she said, offering her arm back to Angela, “I have had enough of them for one lifetime.”

Angela took a deep breath. “Fair enough then.” She resumed bandaging Amélie with a concerned look on her face. “I suppose waiting it out will work better for everybody.”

“Y’sure about that, doc?” Lena picked herself off the ground, rubbing at her tailbone. “What if something goes wrong, and-?”

“Well, you have my number.” Angela secured the gauze and began packing up her supplies. “Considering how Overwatch runs itself these days... I can’t guarantee that I’ll be able to pick up on time, but I promise I’ll do what it takes to be there.”

“Thank you, Dr. Ziegler.” Emily entered the bathroom. “I’ve got some tea brewing in the kitchen. You wouldn’t mind staying for an extra hour, would you?”

“That does sound lovely, but…” A sad smile appeared on Angela’s face. “I’m afraid I’m much too busy for now. I have a rough flight to sleep off and an early morning conference to attend. Another day?”

“Sure.” Emily shook Angela’s hand and went to show her out.

As soon as both were out of earshot, Lena raced over to Amélie’s side. “What was  _ that  _ about, luv? You nearly gave us all a heart attack!”

“Did I?” Amelie blinked ever so slightly. “Well, at least you can say you  _ have  _ hearts. Or working ones, at the very least.”

Lena’s eyes widened, and she began to back away. “Cherie, don’t-” Amélie reached out towards her for a moment; then, she stopped. “Forget it,” she hissed, “I’m going to bed.”

Amélie pushed her way past Lena out of the bathroom. Almost immediately, Lena gave chase and pursued her to the living room. “Amélie! Em’s gonna kill you if you don’t clean up after yourself in the bathroom?”

“Would she?” Amélie climbed onto the couch and began to scoot underneath the blankets. “Not my problem, then.”

Lena let out a sigh. “At least go sleep in the guest room, luv,” she said, “We got it all nice and set up for you.”

“Maybe I don’t  _ want _ to sleep in that room with your tacky Paddington Bear collection,” Amélie grumbled as she disappeared underneath the blankets. “Maybe I prefer the couch. Maybe I think it’s more comfortable than that cement block of a mattress. Maybe I would prefer if you be quiet and let me sleep in peace.”

Lena watched as the blanket went still and paced back towards the bathroom. She stopped and glanced back towards Amélie. “Gee, luv, what did they  _ do  _ to you there?” she murmured.

A set of gentle footsteps approached the flat, and Emily reentered. “Where’d our guest go?”

“Who, Amélie?” Lena whipped around and hugged Emily. “She went to bed. She was  _ really  _ upset, Em, I’m worried…”

“Relax, little hedgehog.” Emily stroked her hair comfortingly. “At least tell me she cleaned up.”

“Nope."

Emily let go of her girlfriend and kneaded her forehead. “Bleeding hell, I’m going to kill her…” She sighed. “Well, Lena, let’s go. Her blood’s not going to mop itself up.”

“Laundry detergent on tiles, right?” Lena tilted her head. “I’ve forgotten.”

“I’m worried that you actually had to  _ ask  _ me that, sweetie.” Emily opened the broom closet and began sifting around. “Well, what do your friends at Overwatch do when cleaning up blood? Can’t be any worse than when your former strike commander spilled grape juice on my carpet and tried to clean it with hand soap.”

“Funny, I actually asked Commander Reyes about that once.” Lena giggled and leaned against the wall opposite the closet. “He told me I didn’t have high enough clearance to know.”

Emily laughed. “That’s ridiculous.” She handed Lena a mop and a bottle of laundry detergent. “Alright, hedgehog, time to put those superheroics to good use.”

“Aye aye, captain!” Lena saluted Emily with two fingers and blinked off towards the bathroom. Emily exhaled, reached for a second mop, and followed her.

It was going to be a long night.


	3. Seven Ways To Tell Your New Roommate That She Needs A Fucking Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emily and Lena decide that enough is enough.

Lena sat on top of the countertop, a mug of tea in her hands. “Don’t you think it’s a bit early to spring this on her, luv?” she asked, taking a sip.

Emily sighed and kneaded her forehead, her hair falling in her face. “Yes, but… we’ve got to tell her eventually, little hedgehog. We can’t just keep hiding her within the flat all day.”

“I guess, but…” Lena stretched out her legs and let them dangle over the ground. “She’s  _ really  _ not going to like this.”

“Oh, I’m aware.” Emily scrunched up her face and sipped at her own mug of tea. Dark circles outlined her lower lids, giving her a haggard appearance. Even still, Lena wanted to get up and cover her girlfriend’s face in pink lip gloss stains via kisses. 

A soft shuffling of footsteps grew louder, and Amélie slinked into the room. She grabbed a croissant out of a bag on the table and stalked over to the corner of the room. There, she slid to the floor and bit at her croissant intensely. Throughout this whole display, she glared at Emily; never once did she break eye contact, making the scenario all the more awkward.

Eventually Lena cleared her throat. “Morning!” The ever-present chirp in her voice sounded forced. “Mind if we all talk over something?”

Amélie raised an eyebrow. “Je ne sais pas.  _ Will  _ I mind?”

“It’s nothing bad, really…” Lena flexed her feet and played with the trim of her jumper. “You’ve just been hanging ‘round for two weeks now, and I don’t think that’s supposed to be good for you. So we wanted to-”

“You need to get a bloody job,” Emily said bluntly.

Amélie blinked. “ _ Quoi. _ ”

Lena gaped at Emily. “ _ Em! _ You said we were going to spring it on her lightly!”

“Shhhh.” Emily reached over and fondled her hair lovingly. “Sorry, little hedgehog, but I didn’t want to postpone it any longer than needed.”

At the mention of Emily’s favorite pet name for Lena, Amélie let out a dry laugh. “Little hedgehog?”

“What?” Emily looked at Amélie and wrinkled her nose. “Doesn’t she look like one?”

Amélie scoffed. “I would have to disagree,” she said, “To me, she resembles a toddler. Small, high-pitched… adorable, yet irritating.”

“Er…” Lena made a face. “I’m gonna be blunt with you, luv. I have no idea whether or not I should take that as a compliment or an insult.”

“Oui.” A wry smile appeared on Amélie’s face.

Emily kneaded her forehead and let out a long sigh. “Could we get back on topic, please?”

“And here I was, trying to avoid it.” Amélie pouted. “Ah yes, let me gather my highly detailed resume consisting of ballet, assassinations, espionage, and breaking expensive wine glasses. Surely, I would be hired on the spot.”

Lena raised her eyebrow. “What’s all this about breaking expensive glasses?”

“I waited tables in high school. We do not speak of those times.”

“Never mind about all of that.” Emily could feel the beginnings of a headache emerge. “Amélie, I’ve got an idea, but I’ll need you to trust me on this.”

 

* * *

 

“This… is stupid.” Amélie tugged on the front of her green apron, a dissatisfied look on her face. The smiling, twin-tailed mermaid emblazoned on it only seemed to further mock her discontent at the whole situation.

Emily leaned against the counter. “It’ll only be for a few months,” she said, “The normal barista’s on maternity leave. I just need you as a replacement-”

“-Until she comes back.” Amélie frowned. “And then what? I will be forced to fend for myself?”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Emily slipped behind the counter, allowing Amélie passage within. “You know how to operate these, right?”   


“I hope.” Amélie checked her nails. “It’s only been years since I last brewed lattes for Gérard and myself. It would be a pity if I forgot overnight.”

Emily blinked. “...I’m going to take that as a yes, then. If you have any questions, Dominic or I’ll be able to answer them. It’s Starbucks, not rocket science.”

Before Amélie could enquire about the mysterious Dominic, a perky looking omnic appeared from a room in the back. Nothing poked out from under his matching green apron, leaving Amélie to figure that he was one of those newer models that hovered. She’d never really approved of the design; it just seemed like a waste of energy, but how should she know?

“Ah, so you’re the new girl!” Dominic’s voice had a lilt to it and was peppered with a Northern accent. “I see Emily’s already been giving you the…” He trailed off as he took Amélie in. Without saying much else, he tapped Emily’s shoulder and pulled her aside.

“Something wrong, Dom?” Emily asked, concerned.

He gave Amélie another wary glance. “I’ve seen her face before.” His voice was dangerously hushed. “Isn’t she the one who killed Mondatta?”   


“That was one time,” Amélie called from over the counter.

Emily hesitated, but gave him a curt nod. “I really don’t know about this, boss,” Dominic stammered, looking at his steel fingers, “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to work with her with a clear conscience.”

“I left my rifle at home,” Amélie continued, a blank expression on her face.

Emily shot her a glare and turned back to Dominic. “This isn’t the situation I’d had hoped for either,” she told him, “But Lena thinks she can do some good. I’d like to believe her.”

Dominic sighed and turned his gaze towards the ground. “She’s always been a bleeding heart,” he said, “I’ll do it for her sake. I’m telling you, Em… this smells fishy.”

“Je suis désolé,” Amélie said, “But did you miss the part where I said my rifle was back home?”

“Yeah, that’s not really reassuring…” Suddenly, Emily was beginning to think that giving Amélie a temporary position at the Starbucks in her bookstore was a bad idea.

Dominic seemed to pick up on her emotions, because he had glided over to Amélie faster than a speeding bullet. “No hard feelings for now,” he said, “We’ve got more pressing matters to attend to. You’ve got to learn what flavor pumps don’t go together before you accidentally poison the customers!”

Amélie raised an eyebrow. “I’m offended that you would think I’d  _ unintentionally _ do that.”

“I’m trying to be optimistic here. Let me have this.” Dominic turned around as he led Amélie away and flashed Emily a thumbs up.

Emily sighed and turned around, pulling out her cell phone. A text message from Lena popped up on the screen.

_ oi, emmy!!! how’s her first day goin, luv??? :o _

She exhaled and gave the phone a hard look before typing in her response.

_ This is going to be a long few months. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to Nicholas John Casey (November 18th, 1987 - September 16th, 2017)
> 
> Nick... words can't describe how empty this world feels right now. In the short time I knew you, I felt truly blessed to know somebody as kind and gentle as you were. Every time we met up, you'd ask me about how college was going and what scripts I was writing. When I told you I was bi, your face lit up; I don't think I saw somebody who was as happy as you were when you realized you weren't alone. Nick, someday I hoped I'd sit in a movie theatre and watch your hard work on the screen for everybody to enjoy.
> 
> I never will now.
> 
> But I'll continue writing for you. This chapter, though short, is dedicated to your memory. Your passing, though horrifyingly unexpected, gave me the fire I needed to continue this story. Thank you, Nick, and may you rest easy.


End file.
